*Chapter 13: The Hollow Throne*
*Year: 3735 BC*
The wind that swept across the Northern Continent carried the cries of fading empires—dead kingdoms swallowed by time, sand, and silence. Yet even among forgotten ruins and scorched earth, something stirred.
Pluto stood atop the shattered obelisk of a once-great city. His silver eyes looked out over crumbled monuments and buried temples, all consumed by the creeping march of erosion. No birds sang here. No whispers of life, save for the faint hum of energy pulsing beneath the sands.
His cloak, tattered at the ends from constant travel, billowed against a cold wind. He didn't flinch. He didn't breathe. Adaptation had long made such needs irrelevant.
He had wandered the Earth for nearly eight centuries now. Never aging. Never stopping. Changing identities. Erasing footprints. Watching civilizations rise and fall.
And always, always testing the limits of what he had become.
*[System Status Updated]*
- Name: Pluto
- Age: 25 (Biological) | 1765 (Actual)
- World: Marvel Universe
- Status: Stable
- Core Trait: Self-Existence
- Evolution Tier: Prime Adaptive
- Passive Abilities: Immortality | Hyper Evolution | Pain Nullification | Emotional Amplification
- New Trait: Volcanic Core Resonance (75% Sync)
*- Pending Anomaly Detected: Subsurface Structure—Origin Unknown*
Pluto's gaze dropped to the sand below. A faint pulse was rising. He stepped off the obelisk, landing without sound, and placed his palm to the ground.
It was warm—wrongly warm.
He pressed harder.
The sand began to sink, spinning inward into a spiral. A trapdoor of ancient stone clicked beneath his hand and hissed open.
Stairs.
He descended.
The air grew dense, heavy with the smell of burnt minerals and something older—like the breath of a sleeping god. The staircase spiraled downward for hundreds of feet. Finally, it opened into a colossal underground chamber.
In the center was a *throne*—twisted, dark, and hollow. Around it, stone-like creatures knelt. Unmoving. As if frozen in time.
"Stasis…" Pluto muttered. "But not stone."
He walked toward the throne, each footstep echoing unnaturally loud.
The system chimed.
*[Ancient Life Signature Detected]*
*Name: Eymor the First Scourge*
*Status: Dormant*
*Class: Pre-Deviant Warlord*
*Threat Level: Omega+*
*Combat Viability: 1% (Deactivated)*
Beneath the throne, a sigil pulsed in ultraviolet light—an ancient locking mechanism. Pluto reached toward it, curious.
He didn't touch it.
He *let it touch him.*
The sigil flared, energy crawling up his arm like liquid flame. It didn't burn. It synced.
*[Passive Absorption Engaged]*
*Knowledge Acquired: Scourge Dominion Command Network (Fragmented)*
*Trait Gained: Dormant Link – Pre-Deviant Hive Relay*
*System Integration: In Progress*
Pluto's head pulsed. Not pain. Just—pressure.
Suddenly, memories not his own flooded his mind: wars fought in red skies, monstrous creations born from pits of black glass, and Eternals torn limb from limb in forgotten wars.
He staggered but did not fall.
The stone creatures began to stir.
Not by their will—by his.
Pluto raised a hand.
The former warriors of Eymor turned toward him and bowed.
System prompt flashed again.
*[New Title Acquired: Shadow Sovereign of the Hollow Court]*
"Not yet," Pluto whispered. "Not until I understand."
He turned, leaving the dormant throne untouched. Its power echoed, but it would remain sealed—for now.
The moment he stepped back into the spiral corridor, *the sand above exploded*.
He leapt instinctively, exiting the tunnel in a blur of motion.
The sky was no longer empty.
A shadow blocked the sun—a creature vast and armored, winged and unnatural, flanked by dozens of smaller beasts.
Deviants.
And in their center… one of the ancient Deviant generals.
Pluto's system flared.
*[Threat Identified: General Grak'thar of the Crimson Maw]*
*Rank: Prime-Class Alpha*
*Genetic Evolution: Phase 5*
*Status: Combat Active*
Grak'thar's voice boomed. "You touched the Hollow Throne. You are not one of us. Yet you command what sleeps below."
Pluto said nothing.
"You wear no mark of Eternal. No chains of Celestial. What are you, creature?"
"I adapt," Pluto said coldly.
The General lunged.
Pluto dodged, flipping into the air, channeling raw energy through his hands. Blades of white plasma ignited from his palms as he landed mid-air and slashed across the beast's chest.
Grak'thar shrieked in pain.
Pluto's system adapted immediately.
*[Deviant Energy Signature Mapped]*
*Partial Trait Acquired: Phase Density Armor | Resistance +40%*
*Blood Echo Triggered: Adaptive Vitality Amplified*
More Deviants descended.
They surrounded Pluto, attacking in waves. But he had fought them for centuries. His movements were clinical. Precise. Cold.
He moved like death given thought.
Every blow he took, he evolved.
Every scar deepened his knowledge of their kind.
Within minutes, half the swarm lay broken.
Grak'thar, enraged, unleashed a burst of crimson energy that shattered the ground around them, sending rock and fire into the sky.
Pluto stood in its center, unfazed.
He stepped forward—and vanished.
Reappeared behind the General.
His palm glowed.
"Phase density neutralized."
He struck once.
Grak'thar's body collapsed—lifeless, his chest imploded from within.
The other Deviants backed away, hissing.
Pluto's system beeped softly.
*[Genetic Core Extracted: Grak'thar]*
*New Trait: Hive Resistance | Elemental Suppression Field | Advanced Combat Predictive Matrix*
*Combat Efficiency: 100%*
Without a word, he turned and walked through the field of corpses.
The sand shifted behind him.
The Hollow Throne slept again.
But the world had changed.
Pluto had not only survived—it had begun to *obey.*